


The Only One I Wanna Touch

by KatStark



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Facials, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rimming, Schmoop, Shotgunning, Smoking, Underage Sex, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2568416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatStark/pseuds/KatStark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Campbell meets fellow American, Dean Winchester at the prestigious British school, Winchester College, and immediately falls for the rebellious boy. Their strong connection is put through many challenges, but the revelation of a devastating secret threatens to tear them apart for good. Is there any way they can find their way back to love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sam/Dean OTP MiniBang 2014. Many thanks to the mods at samdean_otp for running this awesome challenge.
> 
> All the thanks and cookies and kisses to [alexisjane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexisJane/pseuds/AlexisJane) for her alpha read-through where she caught all my errors about life in the UK and the British Public School system. You are a treasure, my dear. You can be my alpha anytime. *Heh*
> 
> And to my beta reader [deansdirtybb](http://archiveofourown.org/users/deansdirtybb/pseuds/deansdirtybb), what can I say? You are the absolute best. Thank you for all the hand holding and encouragement, the extensive chats, and for all your awesome you-ness. I love you, bb.
> 
> And finally, to my artist, [matchboximpala](http://matchboximpala.livejournal.com/), thank you so much for finding the images to bring these boys to life in pictures as well as words. Please run to her art post and leave her lots of love.

 

Sam followed the head of spiky, light-brown hair through the crowd as his schoolmate dodged between boys joking and jostling in the corridor and pushed his way out the doors at the end of the hall. The older boy was the only other American at the school and Sam wanted a chance to talk to someone who wasn't all about cricket and football. Especially when the British students were talking about soccer instead of actual football. Sam had seen the other boy around the campus quite a bit, though they were in different years. It was pretty much impossible not to notice Dean Winchester, his gorgeous face seemed unreal outside the pages of a fashion magazine, but Sam hadn't had the opportunity to do anything more than smile at his fellow countryman as he walked past. He was taking that opportunity into his own hands today as he tracked Dean's path around the side of the building.

 

Despite being slightly homesick, Sam was thrilled to have won a scholarship to the exclusive Winchester College in England. He knew that an education from one of the best schools in the UK would afford him far more possibilities for the future than a regular high school education in Lawrence, Kansas. He'd had several calls with his grandparents back home, but after a month away he was desperate for personal contact and conversation with someone who wouldn't constantly think up words for him to say so they could laugh at his accent.

 

He rounded the corner of the stone building and nearly walked into the boy he was tailing. Dean froze mid-way through lowering the lighter from his cigarette, then relaxed when he spotted Sam.

 

"Oh, hey. I thought I was busted just then. Glad it's just you.  You out here to bum a fag?"

 

Sam sputtered and the Dean's eyes crinkled at the corners with mirth as he started to laugh heartily at Sam's shocked expression.

 

"British slang, dude. You're gonna have to get with the program. You're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. Smokes are called fags here." He waggled his packet of cigarettes at Sam, who took one awkwardly.

 

"How did you know I was from Kansas?" Sam asked as he stared down at the thin tube between his fingers, then back up at the other boy, who was even more handsome up close. Who had lips like that?  He tried not to stare but couldn't help himself.

 

"Uh, I didn't, actually, but that's good to know, I guess. My dad is from there but I grew up all over the place.  Dean Winchester," he announced as he lit Sam's cigarette, his green eyes fixed intently on Sam's.

 

"Sam Campbell," answered Sam and he held out his hand to shake Dean's as he took a deep drag, then doubled over coughing when the harsh smoke hit his lungs.

 

Dean regarded Sam with an amused expression on his face, the corners of his eyes creasing in amusement.  "Not really a smoker, are you, Sammy?"

 

"It's Sam," Sam coughed, tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he leant against the stone wall. "I guess it's been a while and maybe these are different than American ones..."

 

Dean rolled his eyes but gave Sam a friendly grin. "Yeah. That's probably it."  He took a drag then blew a few smoke rings, eyeing Sam with a cheeky 'check me out' expression as he sent a small ring through a larger one. "How'd you end up here, Sammy?"

 

"It's Sam," he repeated, with more emphasis in case Dean hadn't heard him the first time.  "And I won a scholarship. You?"

 

"Ooh, brainy too.  I'm here because of family connections. They like to have Winchesters attending Winchester, ya dig? My uncle is some sort of long lost relative of the Earl of Wiltshire or something. I tuned out once they started talking about all the various complicated connections.  I'd been kinda, well, kicked out of every place they tried to send me back home. Apparently they have a hard time kicking out legacy students here, though.

 

"So, you gonna smoke that or just watch it burn?"

 

Sam looked to his hand and the lit cigarette, embarrassed, and took another tentative drag, causing the same coughing-fit reaction again.

 

"Here," Dean said, stepping into Sam's personal space as he took a long drag. The world around Sam melted away and he was suddenly aware of nothing but the plump, pink lips pursed around the cigarette and then leaning in to come to rest almost touching Sam's.

 

"You gotta open your mouth," Dean whispered, the movement of his lips brushing air across Sam's, and Sam obeyed without thinking, parting his pink bow as Dean exhaled the smoke into his open mouth.

 

The smoke was much gentler that time, moistened already by Dean's lungs and mouth.  I'm breathing air that was inside Dean. Sam's brain stalled out on that thought and he almost reached forward the last couple millimetres to claim Dean's mouth in a kiss. Instead, he exhaled with a sigh, and Dean stepped back, a slight frown between his brows.

 

"So yeah," Dean said, scratching at the back of his hair as he took a final long drag and crushed the cigarette against the stone before putting the butt back in the pack. "I'd best get back inside. Professor Johnson-Smith has it in for me, and if I don't pass Physics, not even my last name is gonna keep me here."

 

"Oh, okay," Sam replied, still somewhat dazed from lack of oxygen and the moment of Dean's lips being so close to his. Finally his brain caught up with his ears and he blurted, "I'm pretty good at physics, so if you ever need any help. I know you're the year ahead of me, but I really am pretty good--"

 

"Really? Fuck, you're a lifesaver, man. That would be amazing. My room is 512; come up tonight after dinner?"

 

Dean was gripping his shoulders and looking so eagerly at Sam that he couldn't help but laugh. "Sure. Like seven o'clock?"

 

"Awesome." Dean gave Sam's hair a tousle as he walked away, chuckling at Sam's indignant squawk.

 

They met up in Dean's room to study and Sam walked Dean through the equations that had been giving him the most trouble. Dean looked incredulously at the younger boy, marveling at how easily the complicated principles seemed to Sam. By nine, they'd finished Dean's homework and settled in to watch a few episodes of _The Simpsons_ on Dean's laptop.

 

Although they didn't share any classes, Sam and Dean fell into a rhythm of spending most evenings together either studying or just hanging out. They often went with a group of boys to the house one of Dean's classmates, Nathan Jones, a day student who lived off-campus with his older brother for a guardian. Dean's cool factor and Sam's novelty as an American brought him easily into the fold. The brother kept the fridge stocked with beer so long as the students left him cash to buy it. He spent most nights at his girlfriend's place across town, so the students used it as an unofficial clubhouse, drinking and playing video games or poker to blow off steam.

 

After a tough week of exams, Sam and Dean were over at Jones's place with the gang, unwinding and playing Halo. Sam was feeling relaxed and loose after a couple cans of beer and he was enjoying Dean sitting pressed up against him on the couch. Dean was often quite tactile but after a few drinks it was even more obvious and Sam wasn't sure how to interpret each time Dean punctuated a laugh with a hand to Sam's shoulder or thigh. They walked home at the end of the night with their arms around one another, laughing, stumbling, and belting out off-key Radiohead.

 

Dean was definitely a little worse for wear so Sam helped him to his room and into bed, pulling off his sneakers and jeans before tucking him in. Sam was pretty sure he felt Dean's lips brush against his throat as he helped arrange him on the pillows and it took a lot of willpower for Sam not to sneak a goodnight kiss from Dean's sleeping mouth.  Sighing, Sam headed upstairs to his own room, and since his roommate had gone home for the weekend, Sam jerked off to the memory of Dean's arms around his neck and the fiery brand of Dean's lips on his skin.

  


As the term wore on, more often than not, they hung out together in Dean's room, since he didn't have to share with a roommate, unlike the younger students like Sam. They sprawled across his couch to read or study or watch videos on Dean's laptop. They talked a lot about what they missed about living in the US--Dean: decent burgers, for Sam: decent salads--and which things they actually preferred about living in England--easy access to beer and chocolate that didn't taste like wax. Some things, like calling Math 'Maths', they thought they'd never be able to get used to but it seemed like an okay trade-off.

 

Neither one of them had much family back home. Both boys had lost their mothers when they were young; Sam had grown up with his maternal grandparents, while Dean grew up with his Dad. Dean had been sent to the UK by a rich uncle he didn't know he had who decided to pay his way after he'd been kicked out of every school he'd attended in the US and his father had to go spend some time in prison (Long story, Sammy. I'll tell ya someday). The culture shock of school in England somehow snapped Dean out of his rebellious streak and he was doing better in his studies than he ever had. Being away from his father and the distractions that came from his father's nomadic lifestyle helped as well.

 

Sam wasn't entirely sure how to read Dean. He was really friendly and open, and he clearly wanted to spend time with Sam, but Sam couldn't tell if there was anything more there. They often sat with their knees touching while crammed into a booth at the diner they frequented when they needed a break from the dining hall. And when they were sprawled out on Dean's tiny couch, one of them often had his feet across the other's legs, and one incredibly memorable afternoon, Dean used Sam's lap as a cushion for his head as he read a novel for English Lit. Sam didn't get any real studying done that day, unless you counted the way he memorized the placement of the freckles dotting Dean's cheekbones and nose.

 

It had been months since Sam had left his boyfriend back in Kansas and he was lonely for touch beyond that of a buddy. He just couldn't tell if Dean was interested in him in a non-platonic way. Dean didn't talk about girls, but they were at an all-boys school, so there wasn't a lot of opportunity to meet them. He chatted and flirted with girls at the diner, but his behaviour was the same whether he was talking to a hottie his age or the 50-something waitress, and truthfully, it wasn't all that different than the way he talked to Sam.

 

They'd just finished up Dean's latest physics assignment when he slammed the book shut and opened his laptop. "I really need to blow off some steam," he said. "You wanna watch some porn?"

 

"Uh, okay," Sam replied. He'd only ever done this with his ex, Zach, and that had always ended with blowjobs. He and Dean hadn't so much as kissed; Sam didn't even know if Dean liked guys. Sam was completely confused but wasn't willing to say no to what might end up being something.

 

Dean hit play and the screen filled with images of a buxom brunette going down on a really well-hung guy. Straight, thought Sam. Shit. Well, at least the guy was in shape and not the hairy troll that often appeared in straight porn. Sam leaned back into the couch cushions and focused on the guy's nice cock and flat abs, trying to ignore all the hair flipping and over-the-top moans of the girl. Much to Sam's surprise, a few minutes in, the porn starlet slid a finger into the ass of the guy she was blowing, and Sam started to feel a sharp buzz of arousal.

 

Dean settled back into the couch, his knee falling against Sam's. Sam pressed back with the lightest touch, and though Dean didn't respond, he didn't pull away. Sam's heart started racing when Dean's hand fell to the space between their legs, then moved to Sam's thigh. He was almost afraid to breathe as he looked quickly over at Dean, who didn't react, his eyes forward on the movie. Sam's eyes snapped down as Dean's hand started slowly moving up Sam's thigh. Sam held his breath, not sure what to do, staring down at Dean's hand then looking over to Dean, who still hadn't moved. Just before his hand reached Sam's crotch, Dean grabbed Sam's closest hand and moved it into his lap.

 

Sam really felt like they should talk about this first, but then Dean's fingers brushed over his cock and he decided talking could be done another time. He fumbled with Dean's belt and fly and when he had them open, he traced the outline of Dean's cock through the cotton of his boxers. Dean sighed and pressed into Sam's hand while he reciprocated Sam's pressures with ones of his own.

 

When Dean's hand dipped beneath his underwear to grab Sam's cock, he whimpered. It had been too long since a hand other than his own had touched his dick, and he didn't want to shoot off too quickly. Dean made a thoughtful noise as he started stroking the full length of Sam's shaft but when Sam looked over at him, Dean's eyes remained resolutely forward, even when he tucked Sam's underwear under his balls, spat in his hand and started jacking Sam in earnest.

 

Sam mimicked the motion, using saliva and the small pulses of precome that were leaking from Dean's dick to slick his way. Sam kept his eyes cut to the side watching Dean's open mouth, the way the muscles in his throat and jaw clenched and released, listening to his ragged breath.

 

He was obsessed with the small grunts and moans leaking from Dean's parted lips. He wanted to press his own lips to Dean's so badly, wanted to swallow every sound that escaped, lick his way in and not come up for air until he'd memorized the internal topography of Dean's mouth.

 

Dean came first, spilling over Sam's hand and spraying up to leave small dots of moisture on his shirt. His lashes fluttered but he kept his eyes open and Sam alternated between staring at Dean's gorgeous O face and at his lovely flushed cock, still pulsing out small blurts of come as Sam worked him through the aftershocks. With those gorgeous images in his brain and Dean's hand working his cock, Sam came quickly after Dean, and as the last drops were wrung out of him by Dean's hand, Sam leant in to kiss his friend. Dean's lips were just as soft as Sam imagined, and although Dean tasted like cigarettes and Doritos, Sam thought it was the best thing ever. He was reveling in the feel of Dean against his own lips and tongue when he realized that Dean wasn't kissing him back.

 

Sam pulled away, confused and embarrassed. "That wasn't okay?"

 

"You kissed me," Dean breathed, eyes wide.

 

"Um, yeah," Sam responded. "I thought we were…You don't like kissing?"

 

"I've, um, never kissed, um, a guy. It's...it's kinda gay."

 

Sam started cackling with laughter until he saw the look on Dean's face. "You're not kidding!" He was still gasping a little for breath as he stared incredulously at Dean. "Holy fuck! You're not kidding. We just gave each other handjobs. Giving another guy a handjob is pretty fucking gay."

 

"That's...that's just a thing we do here. You'll notice there aren't exactly a lot of girls around."

 

Sam's heart dropped into his stomach and he felt sick. He knew he had get away from this ridiculous situation as fast as possible. He started looking around for something to clean himself up until he saw Dean pull off one sock and wipe his own belly. Sam did the same, suddenly realizing why he'd seen so many guys walking through the halls, smiling and wearing only one sock, being razzed and congratulated by other guys. It really was a thing that they did there.

 

He buttoned up, suddenly more confident than he'd been the entire three months he'd been at the school. He might have been out of his element. He was American. He was 16. He was gay. But he knew who he was and he was very comfortable with it. He wasn't trying to hide behind some sort of bizarre boarding school ritual. "I'm gonna go." Sam stated. "Clearly I misunderstood what was happening here. I'll see you around, Dean."

 

Sam closed the door on Dean's words of protest and was glad the hall was empty when he stalked to his room, soiled sock stuffed in his pocket. He was out of luck when he opened the door to discover his roommate sitting at his desk. Neville Rose looked Sam up and down and he gave an approving nod to Sam's missing footwear. "Nice job, Campbell. Didn't take you long to get with the program, did it? And with Winchester. He's a bit of a legend around here. Doesn't give it out to very many."

 

Sam huffed out a frustrated breath as he sat down on his bed and pulled off the other sock. "Yeah, well. Lucky me."

 

Neville gave Sam a pitying look. "Oh, man. You like him and you thought he liked you? I mean, he wouldn't have done it if he didn't like you, but you thought he liked you."

 

"Yep. Apparently I'm an idiot. Can't even find a boyfriend at an all-boys school." He grabbed his toiletries bag. "I'm going for a shower."

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

Sam decided to cut his losses and start making more friends in his own classes. He started hanging out with Neville and his friends and found that he could have a social life without Dean. He hoped he and Dean could eventually be friends again but he just couldn't spend time with Dean for a while when all he'd be able to think about was the feel of Dean's strong fingers wrapped around his cock, of how soft Dean's lips were under his. And how much of an idiot he felt when he realized that Dean wasn't into the kiss.

 

He was sitting in English Lit class when he felt eyes on him and he looked up to see a gorgeous guy with very dark hair and a caramel complexion grinning at him. Sam smiled back and felt a little buzz of excitement when the other boy wet his lips as he continued to stare at Sam. Sam blushed a little and stared down at his book for a moment before looking up to find the boy's gaze still firmly locked on him. He tried to ignore the sudden pounding of his heart as the professor called him to answer a question.

 

The boy caught up to Sam as he was heading back to his room after class and introduced himself as Paolo. He had an unusual accent and as they walked back to the dorms, Sam learned he was originally from Portugal but had lived in the UK for seven years. As they reached Sam's room, Paulo caught his arm.

 

"Will I see you at dinner?" He traced small circles with his thumb over the underside of Sam's forearm and Sam felt his heart begin to pound again.

 

"Um, yeah," he stammered.

 

"I look forward to it," said Paolo, fingers tracing a line down Sam's arm as he pulled away.

 

He waved and Sam stared after him as he went until someone bumped his shoulder walking past and he walked mindlessly into his room, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it. Maybe going to school here wasn't going to be as lonely as he'd thought.

  
Sam settled into a new rhythm without Dean and was really enjoying getting to know Paolo, who didn't attempt to hide his interest in Sam. They'd stolen a few kisses here and there but hadn't had any real time alone. Paolo had asked him to go out on Saturday night, though, and specifically mentioned that his roommate was going home for the weekend. Sam was nervous. He liked Paolo, but wasn't quite sure he was ready for what an evening alone might entail, though his hormones made sure he wasn't about to refuse any action he could get.

 

They were sitting in the dining hall at lunch one afternoon when he noticed Paolo getting much more physical than he normally did, touching Sam's arm constantly and eventually slipping an arm around Sam's shoulder as he spoke close into Sam's ear. Sam wasn't sure what brought it on until he felt Paolo's gaze move and then noticed Dean sitting nearby watching them. Paolo was putting on a display marking Sam as his own and Sam felt a little queasy at the posturing, though he just shrugged at Dean's questioning look when he met the older boy's eyes.

  
  


Sam carefully avoided Dean for several more days but Dean eventually found him Friday afternoon sitting under a tree on the far-side of the football pitch reading, and sat beside him. Dean started chatting about nothing in particular: their classes, the terrible joke Professor Clairmont told that afternoon, the even more terrible joke Elliot had told at the pub the previous night.

 

Sam smiled and laughed politely, but when it was clear Dean didn't intend to talk about the handjob incident the other night, Sam collected his belongings and stood up to leave with an, "I'll see you around."

 

"No, wait, Sammy." Dean grabbed his arm and tugged him back down to the grass. He drummed his fingers on his lap and stared off into the distance for a second before he started to speak. "I wanted to apologize for what happened. You surprised me, that's all. I've never… fuck, this is awkward." He glanced briefly at Sam and then away again. "The thing is...the thing is…" Dean looked pained. "I haven't… but I liked it?"  It sounded like a question when he said it.

 

"You liked what, Dean?" Sam asked impatiently. "Look, I'm really not interested in playing your boarding school 'it's okay to do gay things as long as we don't admit that's what they are' game. I'm gay, Dean. I like guys. I like you, in particular. I'm happy to be just friends with you and date someone else, but I won't be some convenient hand getting you off." His hazel eyes sparked with anger as he regarded the older boy.

 

Dean blew out a long breath in the face of Sam's sharp words. "I liked it when…" Dean's eyes fell to Sam's lips and he bit his own nervously.

 

Sam stared at him for a moment, his anger receding as he saw exactly how hard it was for Dean to say it. He took pity and leaned in close. "You liked it when I kissed you, Dean?" Dean nodded slightly and made a little affirmative noise. "You liked it when I kissed you?" Sam repeated, and when Dean breathed out the tiniest, "yeah," Sam pressed his lips against Dean's, lightly at first, then with increasing pressure.  Dean let out a desperate whimper then fisted his hands in Sam's hair and pulled him in close. Dean parted Sam's lips with his tongue and plunged into Sam's mouth.

 

The sound of voices in the distance forced them to pull apart; PDAs were specifically forbidden on school grounds. They made plans to get together in Dean's room later that evening and they walked back to the school with dorky grins on their faces.

 

"You know you're gonna have to quit smoking if you want me to keep kissing you, right?" Sam announced as they parted ways near the library.

 

Dean just flipped him off, but Sam took the gesture for a yes, and his grin lasted all afternoon.

  
  


Sam felt pretty bad when he cancelled his date with Paolo, especially when the other boy asked him point blank, "It's for Winchester, isn't it? I've seen the way he watches you."

 

"Yeah," Sam admitted reluctantly. "We sorta had something starting, but then he freaked out--"

 

"I know what straight boys are like, Sam. He'll only fuck you around, but it's your life. Give me a call when he eventually breaks your heart."

 

Sam was in the middle of stammering out another apology when Paolo shut the door in his face. Sam felt like such an asshole, but his misery didn't last long, especially knowing he was going to hang with Dean that night. He showered again before dinner and made sure to slip off to the bathroom to brush his teeth before he knocked on Dean's door.

 

Sam was barely through the door when Dean had him crowded up against the wood and was kissing him breathless. Sam simply dropped the bag of snacks he'd been carrying and let himself get lost in Dean's kiss. Once Dean committed to something, he really went for it, and  before he knew what had hit him, Sam's lips were licked open and Dean's minty tongue was in his mouth, diving and exploring. Sam swept his hands up Dean's back and dug his fingers into his short hair, hanging on for the ride.

 

Dean finally pulled away and Sam felt his knees buckle before he got them back under his control. Was he seriously swooning over a boy? Thankfully, the solid wood door kept him upright as he swayed, especially when he got a look at Dean's mouth, all kiss-swollen and spit-shiny. Sam couldn't resist reaching up to brush his fingers over those beautiful lips, and Dean's eyes dropped to Sam's hand before returning to search Sam's eyes.

 

"You okay?" Sam asked.

 

Dean grinned, his usual cockiness giving way to some shyness. "Yeah," he answered. "I'm really good."

 

Sam followed Dean to the sofa and they sat close together, a current of nervous energy pulsing between them.

 

"Look Dean--" Sam started, wanting to clear the air, to make Dean understand that they didn't have to go from zero to sixty with the physical relationship. He didn't get more than the first two words out before Dean countered with, "Can I blow you?"

 

Sam closed his eyes for a moment at the glorious image of Dean's puffy red lips wrapped around his cock, but he forced himself to ignore the vote his dick was casting in his pants and responded with his brain.

 

"Fuck, Dean, you can't imagine how much I want that, but maybe we should go a little slower. Make out for a while and work up to that?" If cocks could rail at the heavens, Sam's would have been.

 

"Okay, cool," Dean said, both disappointment and relief evident on his face. "Maybe you should get over here and kiss me some more."

 

Sam wasn't going to argue with that and quickly straddled Dean's lap, interlocking his fingers with Dean's and pinning Dean's arms above his head as he dove in for hot kisses. Dean was groaning beneath him and Sam was enjoying finding out just what drove the other boy crazy. He could feel Dean's dick pressing into his ass through their jeans and he ground down against it. Dean whimpered, so Sam ground down harder, shifting his hips so their cocks could rub together.

 

"Touch me. Please," Dean whispered, desperation leading to a whining tone in his voice. Sam liked the idea of hearing him beg even more, but his own cock was desperate for contact, so he freed both their erections from their jeans and wrapped his large hand around the two of them. He'd been steadily leaking precome and used that to slick his stroke until it wasn't quite enough and he spat in his palm to get some more lubrication.

  
Dean's head had fallen back against the back of the couch and Sam took advantage of the opportunity to lick and nibble at his exposed throat while he jacked them together. He was panting against Dean's neck as he felt his orgasm building deep in his core. "Gonna..." Sam groaned and Dean responded by rucking his t-shirt up under his arms.

 

"C'mon, Sammy. I wanna see it. Come for me. Paint me up."

 

"Fuuuck," Sam moaned as he came, Dean's words pushing him right over the edge. He felt the hot come splashing over his fist and pressed his forehead to Dean's, looking down to see it spray Dean's abdomen and chest. He kept stroking their cocks together, the extra slick from his come driving sharp gasps from Dean's mouth until he too was shooting his release hot and fast between them.

 

Dean looked up into Sam's eyes, still panting from his orgasm, his huge pupils eclipsing his irises, his pink lips frozen in a surprised 'O' of pleasure. Sam grinned down at him and Dean surged forward to capture Sam's lips with his own, kissing him deep and dirty until they couldn't taste the difference between each other's mouths.

 

Eventually, and reluctantly, Sam peeled himself away from Dean's chest and sat down next to him on the couch. They regarded the mess they'd made between them. "I think this is gonna take more than a sock," Sam observed, and Dean laughed, his eyes crinkling in delight.

 

"Use this." Dean peeled off his soiled shirt and Sam bit his lip at the sight of Dean's broad, freckled shoulders and chest exposed to his gaze for the first time. Sam could only assume that he was getting most of his own chest clean as he wiped blindly. He couldn't take his eyes off Dean. Dean flashed him a cocky grin as he took the sticky garment from Sam and wiped himself down before tucking himself back into his boxers and buttoning up as he walked to the dresser. He chucked a clean t-shirt at Sam, who'd peeled himself out of his own messy shirt, and replaced it with one that smelled perfectly like Dean. He was pretty sure he was never giving the soft, grey cotton back.

  
  


They were studying in Dean's room a few weeks later and Dean was fed up with Physics. And Latin. And History. Sam kept trying to get Dean back on track but the older boy kept getting up and pacing the room, frustrated with his lack of progress, and bitching at Sam for making him quit smoking. When Sam insisted they keep working at it, knowing Dean just had to put in a bit more time before the material all started to gel in his brain, Dean started playing dirty. He began stroking Sam's thigh and when Sam pushed his roving hand away, Dean leaned back against the arm of the couch and began to stroke his own thigh, working higher and higher with each pass.

 

Sam kept his eyes fixed on the book before him, continuing to call out questions for Dean to answer, despite seeing Dean out the corner of his eye pull his t-shirt up to reveal his flat belly. When Dean's hand started dipping beneath the waistband of his jeans, Sam threw his pen at his boyfriend.

 

Eyes all hurt innocence, Dean looked up and Sam just glared at him. Dean couldn't maintain his expression, face cracking into a smile at Sam's stern expression, and soon Sam was smiling too, unable to maintain a straight face at Dean's charm offensive.

 

"You're incorrigible," Sam stated, shaking his head.  Dean pursed his lips thoughtfully, then acquiesced with a nod.

 

"It's just that we got our results back from our STI screenings and it seems a shame not to do anything with our clean bills of health."

 

"Incorrigible and a romantic." Sam rolled his eyes. "But I've got an idea. Maybe you just need a little more motivation to learn this stuff. So, for every answer you get right on this exercise sheet, one of us takes off an item of clothing." Dean was suddenly paying attention, sitting up straight and regarding Sam intently. "And if you get at least 70% of the answers right on the trial quiz at the end of the chapter..." Sam paused and licked his bottom lip for effect. "...I'll suck you off as a reward."

 

Dean got 85% on the trial quiz and shot a huge load down Sam's throat. He'd collapsed back into the cushions when Sam crawled up beside him, clad only in a pair of boxer briefs tented obscenely with his erection. Dean glanced down at Sam.

 

"I'm afraid all that studying was for nothin'."

  
"Why is that?" Sam inquired.

 

"'Cuz I just shot my brains out through my dick." Dean grinned lazily.

 

"You are a dick," Sam countered, and then pulled Dean's face down to his and kissed him deeply, sharing Dean's flavour with him. Dean surprised him by growling and pressing him back into the couch, covering Sam's body with his and kissing him with a ferocious intensity. Sam's mouth had been well and truly plundered by the time Dean pulled away. Sam felt a little lightheaded when Dean pulled away and sat back on his heels, looking pointedly at the tent in Sam's underwear.

 

"It seems like we need to do something about that," Dean observed. Sam groaned helplessly when Dean leant forward and pressed wet kisses to the light trail of hair that disappeared into his boxers.

 

"You don't have to," Sam gasped as Dean's wet lips found the crown of his dick through the cotton of his underwear.

 

"Mmmm," Dean hummed, "but I want to." He traced the outline of Sam's cock with kisses that became progressively open-mouthed before his tongue darted out and Dean started lapping at the wet spot Sam's leaking precome had formed in the fabric.

 

"Fucking tease," Sam moaned and Dean grinned wolfishly, giving the tip another lick.

 

"Maybe I'm shy," Dean countered and Sam regarded him disbelievingly.  "Okay, maybe not," he admitted, slowly drawing Sam's underwear down over his hips, and grabbing the base of Sam's dick as it bounced free against his stomach, "but I'm not sure how much of this monster I'm gonna be able to fit."

 

"You'd be more convincing if I hadn't seen you fit an entire hamburger in your mouth in the canteen last week."

 

"Touché, Sammy.  Now are we gonna talk or am I gonna suck your cock?" Dean gave the underside a wet lick.  Sam closed his eyes as Dean's mouth engulfed the head of his cock. He'd been leaking steadily while he blew Dean and the feel of Dean's tongue lapping at the slit had him ready to shoot down the other boy's throat.

 

It was a relief that Dean's inexperience meant that it wasn't the greatest head of his life or it would have been over in seconds. Dean was enthusiastic, though, and eager to get it right. He was clearly listening to Sam's gasps and moans, repeating the moves that got the biggest reactions until Sam was a quivering mess.

 

When Dean wrapped his hand around the base of Sam's shaft and started stroking in a counterpoint to his delicious suction, Sam knew he wasn't going to last much longer.  "Dean," he moaned, "gonna…"

 

Dean pulled off and licked his sinfully plump lips and that was it. Sam came, pumping thick white streaks over Dean's lips and cheeks, leaving him looking sullied and debauched and even more perfect than usual. Sam was pretty sure he was in love.

 


	3. Chapter Three

There were two formal dances held each year between Winchester College and the nearby St Swithun's girls' school. The autumn formal was upon them and all the students were expected to attend. Sam and Dean dressed up and danced a few times with various girls even though they were really only interested in dancing with each other.  Most of the songs were upbeat so it was fine to dance in groups rather than necessarily in couples, but it was awkward every time a slow song was played. Sam felt a mild pang of jealousy at how tightly a petite blonde was glommed onto Dean as they rocked slowly to the music, but when Dean caught his eye and Sam saw the pained expression on his face, Sam's fears faded away.

 

They were able to have one slow dance together when a few guys from the rugby team decided to pair up as a gag and soon the room was filled with same-sex couples pretending to make out as they danced. Sam and Dean weren't laughing, but Sam had a secret smile on his face as he held his boyfriend in his arms until the song ended.

 

"I've got a surprise," Dean whispered to Sam as they stepped apart. He grabbed Sam's elbow and pulled him out of the ballroom, sneaking away before the festivities ended.

 

Sam was surprised when Dean flagged down a cab and gave an unknown address. They pulled up in front of a quaint bed and breakfast, and when Sam hesitated at the entrance to the house, Dean pressed a hand to his lower back, guiding him inside. They roused the proprietress, who eyed them suspiciously, but was too interested in getting back to whatever program was blaring on the telly behind her to kick up a fuss as Dean claimed his reservation. "Don't make a mess," were her parting words as they climbed the narrow staircase to their room.

 

"You got us a room," Sam stated as the wooden door closed behind him.

 

"Well, yeah. I figured it was sort of a tradition back home to get a room after the homecoming dance." Dean looked really eager for Sam to be happy with his choice, and also a little nervous, which Sam found extremely endearing. He wasn't quite ready to let the Dean off the hook, though.

 

"Chintz curtains and a double bed. Is that all you think it takes to get me to put out?" Sam couldn't keep his stern expression going when he saw legitimate worry cross Dean's face. "Dude," Sam exhaled, pulling Dean into his arms and kissing him deeply. He stroked his fingers down the side of Dean's face as he added, "You had me at the chintz curtains."

 

"Shut up," Dean scolded and then laughed and pushed Sam back onto the creaking mattress. He pulled his bowtie open and tracked Sam's expression from amused to aroused. Dean grinned. "You like that, huh? Seeing a guy in a tux coming slowly undone?" Dean unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers and leering at Sam as he stood, jacket on, tie hanging loosely at his neck, smooth chest and abdomen exposed.

 

Sam cleared his throat, which had gone mysteriously dry. "Not any guy in a tux," he corrected. "Just you." He swallowed hard as he felt all his blood rushing south. "Keep going."

 

Dean flashed a breathtaking grin and toed off his shoes before removing his socks, jacket, and trousers, fishing a small bottle out of his pocket before discarding the items. Sam sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled Dean to stand between his open legs as he eased the shirt off Dean's shoulders. It was the closest he'd ever been to having Dean naked, since at school there was always the chance that someone could knock, and housemasters had the right to open a locked door if no-one answered within 60 seconds, so they'd never risked it. Dean stripped to his boxer briefs in front of Sam was a glorious sight and Sam pressed soft kisses to Dean's abs and hip bones as he stroked up and down the muscular contours of Dean's back. A shiver ran through Dean as Sam's hands moved lower to cup his ass and pull him even closer.

 

Sam looked up Dean's body as he heard Dean speak.  "I kinda feel at a bit of a disadvantage here." Dean indicated their disparate levels of undress.

 

"It's working for me," Sam huffed against Dean's belly as he worked his fingers under the waistband of the older boy's underwear and cupped his naked cheeks. Sam preened a little at Dean's desperate whine, but took pity on him, standing up to reverse their positions.

 

Getting undressed didn't take Sam as long, but he made sure to give Dean a decent show before crawling up Dean's body to kneel astride him and kiss him deeply. Dean grabbed Sam's ass and pulled his hips closer, aiming for the best friction as they ground their erections together. Sam's breath was coming in choked out gasps as they kissed and rutted together.

 

"This is gonna be over much sooner than I want if we keep this up much longer," groaned Sam against Dean's lips, slowing his grinding rhythm only slightly.  Dean sighed sadly but released his tight hold on Sam's ass. Sam sat back and traced the lines of Dean's chest and abdomen with his fingertips.

 

"What did you have in mind for tonight, Dean?" he asked, sliding his hand between their bodies to cup Dean's hard dick. "You've got me alone in a private room for a whole night. And it looks like you came prepared." Sam cut his eyes to where the bottle of lube was lying next to the pillows.

 

"Um," Dean replied, eyes rolling back in his head as Sam squeezed his length between long fingers. "I kinda figured we'd just see where things went." Dean wet his lower lip nervously and Sam leaned forward to suck the moistened pink flesh into his own mouth.

 

Releasing his prize, Sam's mouth found its way along Dean's jaw to his ear. "Were you hoping I'd suck you off?" he inquired teasingly.

 

"Fuck, yeah," Dean answered, his voice rough.

 

"Did you want me to finger your ass while I do it? Work your prostate until you're seeing stars as you come?" Sam's fingers worked beneath the waistband of Dean's underwear until they found the velvet hardness of his dick.

 

"Uh huh," Dean whined, desperation pitching his voice high and thin.

 

"And then did you want me to fuck you into this mattress? Impale you on my cock so deep and hard? Pound your virgin ass until you're coming again, my name on your lips, begging me never to stop?"

 

Sam thought he'd gone too far when Dean pushed him off and ran to the small washroom. Sam could hear water running and he sat nervously on the bed until Dean returned, muttering something under his breath. Sam could only pick up bits and pieces of the words until he recognized the Latin phrases he'd helped his boyfriend memorized weeks earlier.

 

"Fuck, that was close," Dean said, finally noticing Sam's worried face. "Nearly made me bust a nut just talking about fucking. I had to use some cold water and Latin to calm things down. You don't play fair."

 

"I thought you were freaking out about what I said. I'm cool if you wanted to fuck me. Or we could do other stuff if you don't want to have sex."

 

Dean smiled at Sam's run of words. "Oh, I want," he replied, climbing into Sam's lap. "And I'm sure sometime I'll want to try fucking you, but tonight I want you…" he swallowed hard, "...in me."

 

Sam pulled Dean in tight and they kissed languorously for a few minutes before Sam rolled them over and he kissed his way down Dean's stomach, peeling away Dean's boxers as he went.

 

Dean's cock sprang free and slapped against his stomach as Sam discarded the extraneous fabric. He pinned Dean's hips to the mattress with a hand on each hipbone and then slurped the head of Dean's cock into his mouth. He teased and tantalized his boyfriend's cock and balls with his mouth until Dean was a quivering mess. When Dean seemed lost in sensation, Sam bent Dean's knees up, instructing the older boy to hold them in place as he licked a line from the underside of Dean's sac to the rosy pucker of his asshole.

 

Dean was far too gone to hold in his cries at the first wet swipe of Sam's tongue over his hole. Dean struggled for control in every other aspect of his life: fighting with teachers, resisting the rigid structure of the British Independent school system, arguing with his dad long-distance on monthly phone calls. Sam felt especially honoured by the way Dean was willing to drop his guard with him. He licked and nibbled at Dean's entrance until the muscle released a little to let his tongue press inside.

 

A loud gasp escaped Dean's lips as Sam's tongue slid into him and Sam could feel Dean trembling at the intense sensation. Sam licked into him, working the smooth muscle until it was supple and opened easily to his tongue. He traced the pink folds with the tip his middle finger slick with saliva, and when he sensed Dean was ready for it, he slid the finger inside.

 

Dean arched into the intrusion, seeking more pressure until Sam found the spot inside that drove Dean wild whenever Sam fingered him while blowing him as a reward for high test scores. Sam licked his way back to Dean's balls as he gently fucked the long digit in and out of Dean's hole, gazing up Dean's body to admire how gorgeous Dean looked all loose and relaxed.

 

Grabbing the lube from the mattress beside them, Sam dribbled some of the cool liquid onto his index finger and pushed two fingers inside Dean on the next thrust. Dean winced a little but relaxed again as Sam sucked one of his balls into his mouth and rolled it on his tongue.

 

Smiling at Dean's blissful groans, Sam lay kisses up the underside of Dean's cock before engulfing the head in his hot mouth. Dean's low moan vibrated through his body and into Sam's, and Sam couldn't help but grind into the mattress a little as he sucked and fingered Dean.

 

Dean's fingers found their way into Sam's hair and tugged insistently, pulling Sam's nose closer to to Dean's belly on each pass. Sam did his best to relax his throat and let Dean drive the blowjob, breathing rhythmically to allow Dean to fuck his face deeper and deeper. Sam countered each deep thrust into his mouth with a thrust of his fingers into Dean's ass when Dean retracted his hips. The dual sensations drove him to the brink in record time and Sam swallowed a huge load with Dean's cock wedged deep in his throat.

 

Dean collapsed back against the creaky mattress and Sam pressed gentle kisses to Dean's heaving abdomen. He wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes as he watched Dean try to regain his breath. Dean's chest and cheeks were flushed, his freckles standing out against the pink skin.

 

One green eye opened slowly and regarded Sam. "Best. Boyfriend. Ever."

 

Sam chuckled and moved up Dean's body to kiss him, withdrawing his fingers carefully as he went. He started his kisses with the freckles at the dip of Dean's throat at the junction of his collarbones, moved to those dusting Dean's nose, and finished with Dean's perfect pink lips. He pressed his tongue deep into Dean's mouth, knowing how tasting himself on Sam made his boyfriend squirm with the dirty hotness of it all.

 

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean breathed. "You have no idea what you do to me."

 

"I think the load of jizz I just swallowed gives me a pretty good idea," Sam countered, fox eyes gleaming.

 

Dean laughed weakly. "Good point well made."

 

Sam dropped his hand down between Dean's parted legs to find his hole, still slick and open for his fingers. Dean sighed and spread his legs wider, allowing Sam better access. Two fingers slipped easily inside, so Sam scissored them apart, biting and sucking at Dean's gorgeous mouth as he worked Dean open.

 

"You sure you still want this?" Sam asked as he slicked up a third finger and pressed it to Dean's hole.

 

"Yeah," Dean whined, voice shaking as Sam stretched him further than ever before. "Please. Want you."

 

"Fuck, Dean. You're too perfect, you know? So gorgeous. So strong. So smart." Sam knew that the only time he could get away with talking to Dean like this was when the other boy was too fully strung-out on pleasure to protest and walk away.

 

Sam worked Dean open until three fingers slid easily into his tight heat and his dick was starting to show an interest in round two. Sam pulled his fingers away and used the excess lube to get his cock slick and ready.

 

"Want you to ride me," Sam said, voice gravelled with lust. "I wanna watch you take my cock."

 

Moaning, Dean pushed Sam over onto his back and straddled him. He jacked Sam's leaking cock and then added a bit more lube from the bottle. Eyes closed, he lined up the head of Sam's prick with his hole and slowly sank onto it. He paused partway down and exhaled sharply. Sam bit the inside of his cheek in an effort not to buck his hips and bury himself fully in Dean's clenching heat.

 

When Dean's breathing eased he opened his eyes and regarded Sam, wiggling his hips tentatively. "I would pick the guy with the biggest dick in school to pop my ass-cherry."

 

Sam frowned worriedly. "We don't have to--"

 

"Yeah, we do," Dean interrupted. "Here goes nothing," he said and sank down until his ass was flush against Sam's thighs.

 

Sam cried out at how perfect Dean felt around him, encasing him so tightly. He waited again as a panting Dean went perfectly still, but it didn't take as long for Dean to adjust to the new stretch, and soon he was making experimental little bounces on Sam's dick, and Sam knew exactly what heaven would look and feel like.

 

Punching his hips up to meet one of Dean's downstrokes had Dean gasping, "Do that again!" Sam repeated the move and Dean whimpered at the exquisite pleasure.

 

They moved together, learning what felt the best, finding a rhythm that best delivered moans and gasps. Sweat was dripping from Dean's chest onto Sam's when Sam grabbed Dean's cock and started stroking him in tandem with the thrusts into his ass.

 

"So close, Dean. Wanna see you come again for me first."

 

"Yeah," Dean cried and started slamming his hips down on Sam's cock. "Yeah. Yeah, Sam. Yeah!" Dean sprayed Sam's belly with hot come, one splatter flying far enough to hit Sam's cheek. The sight of Dean's release spurred Sam to punch his hips against Dean's perfect ass half a dozen more times before he was shooting his load deep inside.

 

Dean collapsed forward onto Sam's chest and pressed his lips to the side of Sam's neck. Sam stroked Dean's hair as he waited for the witty comments to start, but all he heard was a soft snore as Dean fell immediately asleep.  Sam wriggled gently until he'd moved Dean to his side and curled himself around his boyfriend before he too fell asleep.

 

They woke up early, sticky and happy. They had a quick shower together and then Sam tackled Dean and fucked him into the squeaking mattress one more time before they headed back to the college.

  


 

Their housemaster was waiting for them when Sam and Dean attempted to steal into the dorms the next morning.

 

He handed them each a slip of paper. "You only have 30 minutes left for breakfast, gentlemen. Then go directly to the headmaster's office. You can join the back of the queue. Why you boys think you won't get caught, I have no idea. I certainly hope the young ladies were worth it."

 

Dean just winked at Sam as they headed to the dining hall.

  


The Headmaster looked extremely bored as he began a lecture about how the school understood that boys their age were doing some exploration, but there were curfew rules and the school couldn't condone any after hours activities off campus any more than they could permit girls to stay late in the dorms. He spoke it all in a rush of words as Sam and Dean stared at their laps. They looked up at him when he made a surprised noise and saw the Headmaster looking down at each of their files.

 

He looked back and forth between them quizzically. "You never mentioned that you're brothers." He looked down again at files, flipping pages.

 

"We're what now?" Dean replied, his eyes wide and eyebrows reaching for his hairline.

 

The Headmaster read aloud from each file. "Dean Winchester - Father: John Winchester. Mother: Mary Campbell.  Sam Campbell - Father: John Winchester. Mother: Mary Campbell."

 

Sam's face blanched and his fingers whitened as they dug into his thighs.

 

The Headmaster continued, not looking up from his notes and therefore, not noticing either boy's reaction. "The Earl of Wiltshire has being paying both your fees. Of course. That's why you've been thick as thieves." He finally looked up, regarded the boys again, stern gaze softening a little as he smiled in relief. "Well, make sure you're keeping your brother bonding time within curfew, understood?"

 

Sam started to cough.

 

"Sure thing, Sir.  If you don't mind, Sir, could you keep our secret to yourself? We'd prefer it if no one else knew about our family connection, as explaining our different last names makes the Earl uncomfortable." He grinned winningly at the Headmaster, who agreed.

 

"Thank you, Sir. We'll be sure to obey the curfew from now on. We've just been doing so much catching up." He patted Sam's back when Sam's coughing renewed. "C'mon, Sam. Let's get you some water. We don't want to give the Headmaster your cold."

 

The heavy door closed behind them and Dean guided them down the hallway to a small alcove. "Holy Shit!" he exclaimed. "It's gotta be some sort of mistake. I mean, my mom was killed in a fire. No one ever said anything about a brother. We can't possibly be..." Sam just stared at him, looking absolutely gutted. "It's okay, Sammy. We'll figure-"

 

"It is NOT okay, Dean. It is anything but okay. I grew up thinking my whole family was dead and I should be so excited to find out that I have a brother. Except turns out that last night I fucked that bro-" he cut off when one of their professors swept down the hallway, robes billowing.

 

"Mister Winchester. Mister Campbell."

 

"Sir," they replied, waiting until he was gone to continue.

 

"Fuck, Dean. Look, I gotta go." Sam wrenched his arm out of Dean's grasp, giving him one more devastated look before his long legs carried him down the hall to the stone staircase and away from the boy who held his heart.

 

 


	4. Chapter Four

After the revelation that he and Dean were brothers, Sam buried himself in his schoolwork.  It was far too messed up to think about, though he lay awake for hours at night missing Dean.  Trying not to vomit over he still wanted to kiss, touch, and fuck Dean, how much he missed Dean's taste on his tongue. He was getting almost no sleep but he was getting a lot of work done on all the papers due before classes broke for Christmas.

 

He wasn't avoiding Dean entirely, not after the first couple days he spent in bed with the covers pulled over his head. He'd buried his phone at the bottom of his dirty laundry hamper so he wouldn't be tempted to call Dean and confess how he still felt. He shouldn't still want the other boy - he shouldn't want his brother - as much as he did, and Dean would probably be sickened that Sam was such a freak that being siblings didn't change how much he wanted to feel Dean beneath him again, writhing and moaning on his cock.

 

Sam knew he looked like shit. His roommate made sure to mention it regularly, saying how sick he was of seeing Sam's miserable visage. Neville kept grilling Sam, asking why, if Sam missed Dean so much, he didn't just go make up with him. Sam couldn't explain it, insisting that it was complicated, they were not getting back together, and that he didn't want to talk about it.  

 

Dean didn't look much better, from what Sam could tell from a distance. The spark that was always present in Dean's verdant eyes - whether happy, angry, or turned on - was gone. There were dark circles under Dean's eyes and his hair lay limp and oily against his scalp. The looks he gave Sam across the dining hall were full of so much pain, and Sam hated himself for dragging Dean into this incredibly fucked-up situation.

 

Sam knew in his heart that you couldn't turn someone gay against their will, still he couldn't help but to think that Dean would have been better off if he'd never known Sam.

 

It was nearing the Christmas break and Sam wasn't going to be leaving campus. His scholarship included a trip back to the States for the holidays, but after a huge argument with his grandparents over why they'd kept a very alive father and brother from him his whole life, Sam wasn't up to seeing them. Their insistence that they'd done it for his own good because his dad wasn't a good man, did nothing to quell his anger. He wondered briefly what Dean's plans for break were, but he pushed the thought aside as soon as it appeared.

  


Frosty gravel crunched underfoot as Sam walked the loop of the school's ornamental gardens, trying to clear his head before having another look at his European History assignment. Sam's shoulders were hunched around his ears and his head down, so he didn't see the other boy until he'd nearly walked into him.

 

"So sorry, man," Sam apologized, looking up into glass green eyes that knocked the breath out of him. Of course Dean was out here. It was a favourite walking route for both boys when they needed a study break and the other wasn't available for more fun distractions.

 

"Hey," Dean greeted, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder to steady him. He winced as Sam flinched away from the touch and stuffed the offending appendage in his pocket. the warmth Sam had seen in his gaze faded immediately as Dean looked down. "Yeah, I guess I'd better…" Dean indicated the dorms with a tilt of his head. His "See Ya!" was filled with a false brightness, and before Sam could think of something, anything to say, Dean's figure was down the path, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold.

 

"See ya," Sam repeated weakly.

  


 

The last class of the year was finished and a festive spirit filled the halls of Winchester College. Sam was doing his best to appear as enthusiastic as his classmates as he headed back to his room to drop off some books. He was glad to have only a few more hours of playing pretend before most people took off for Christmas with their families in posh Swiss ski resorts, or whatever they did.  Neville insisted that Sam join him and others for a right piss-up that evening--said they'd drag Sam out by force if need be. Sam agreed finally, but as soon as his roommate was gone, Sam planned to do some good old-fashioned wallowing while he had some peace and quiet.

 

Turning his phone on, he discovered he had a voicemail from Dean, who sounded weird.

 

"Music building. Room 307. 4 o'clock."  Okay, that was vague.

 

Sam checked his watch and noticed it was already quarter to four. He grabbed his jacket and scarf, pulled on a toque, and hurried across campus.

 

The music building was an area of the campus Sam didn't know, and he knew Dean didn't have any classes here either. He found the stone building tucked amidst some snow dusted tree. He entered into a wide, echoing concourse, and made his way up the polished wood staircase to the third floor.

 

The door to 307 swung open easily. "Dean?" Sam called, but the other boy hadn't arrived yet.  The room looked to be in disuse--a large, dusty table, a few wooden chairs, and a chalk board the only features.

 

Sam was looking out the window to check out the view of the rest of the campus from there when he heard Dean's voice.

 

"Hey, Sam. Nice choice for a meeting spot. A bit cloak-and-dagger with the weird voicemail, though." Dean was rubbing his hands briskly and blowing on them against the cold.

 

Frowning, Sam asked, "What do you mean? You were the one who picked the spot and left the cryptic voicemail."

 

"Yeah. No. I did not," Dean insisted.

 

The sound of the door closing and a lock sliding home had them both turning toward the door. A piece of paper slid underneath as Dean pounded the wood, shouting, "Hey! This isn't funny. Let us out!"

 

Work it out, wankers. You've got 4 hours. If it's not sorted by 8pm, I'm staying here for break and we're going to talk about your feelings the whole time. I've recorded some episodes of Dr. Phil for us to watch together that I'm sure will help. Love, NR.

 

Sam handed the note to an incredulous Dean, who crumpled it after reading it and resumed pounding.

 

"You're a dead man, Neville Rose!" he finished, when it was clear no one was coming back.

 

"Well," Sam said. "I guess this explains the weird questions Rose was asking me this morning, repeatedly trying to get me to say certain phrases and numbers. Did he do the same to you?"

 

"Yeah," Dean admitted. "He cornered me in the canteen yesterday and wouldn't let up." Dean's cheeks flushed with anger and he glared at Sam. "Did you put him up to this?"

 

"Yeah, Dean. After avoiding you for weeks, I decide that rather than just talking to you like a normal person, the best plan was to get locked in a room with you." Sam rolled his eyes and sat heavily in a chair.

 

"So you admit you've been avoiding me," Dean countered.

 

"What? No. Well, yes, but only because it hurts so goddamn much to see you and still feel the way I do about you even though I know what I know. What we are."

 

"And how do you feel about me, Sam?" Dean asked, his voice soft.

 

Sam looked up incredulously, pain written across his face. "Really, Dean? You even have to ask?" Sam stood up abruptly, walking over to stare out the window at the darkening sky. "I love you, Dean. I love you and I want you, and I know how disgusted that must make you." The words came tumbling out in a rush.

 

"I love you too, Sammy."

 

"And I knew you wouldn't even want to be friends with me if you knew-- Wait. What?" Sam turned hastily around to discover Dean standing barely a foot away from him.

 

"I love you too, Sammy. I love you and I want you."

 

"But we're...we're brothers." The last word came out in a whisper. Sam's eyes were full of fear. And hope.

 

"Yeah." Dean pursed his lips in agreement. "I thought it was you that was disgusted and that's why you were avoiding me. Doesn't change anything for me. Don't get me wrong, it could make for some awkward family dinners if I brought you home as my boyfriend. 'Hey, Dad. This is my gay lover, Sam, whose name just happens to be mom's maiden name. Isn't that a crazy coincidence?'" Sam's sharp, surprised bark of laughter rang out in the room. "But we didn't grow up together, and it's not like you can knock me up, so who would we be hurting?"

 

"But our families?" Sam couldn't let it go, especially since Dean had brought it up.

 

"The same families that hid us from one another our whole lives? Listen, my dad--our dad--isn't a great guy. He's a thief and a con-man, and he's currently serving 15 for Grand Larceny. He swindled a lot of women out of their money, which is why we moved so much when I was growing up.  I don't plan to return to the States for a family reunion with dear old Dad anytime soon."

 

"But the Headmaster. He knows."

 

"We are going to have to hide our incestuous activities from an elderly man who never sets foot anywhere near actual student-areas of campus. And, who I hear, is retiring at the end of the school year." Dean regarded Sam easily, waiting for the next easily-countered argument. It was obvious he was enjoying this.

 

"But our school records?"

 

"Having a criminal for a father does have some perks. I'm gonna have to steal my record and change a few details. By the end of Christmas break, Marnie Cambell will be my mother and I'll be born in Lawrence, Massachusetts. Next."

 

"But you're not even gay." Sam threw out his last, desperate argument. So close to believing that what he wanted was within his grasp, but still too scared to really believe.

 

"Sammy," said Dean, grabbing Sam's chin and tipping it down so their mouths were inches apart. "What does it matter who I was attracted to before I met you? I obviously wasn't repulsed by the male body or I wouldn't have been giving and receiving the 'Wykehamist handshake'. I definitely would not have let you put that big dick up my ass--several times, I might add--if I didn't want this with you. Do you want to throw that away because I haven't wanted anyone else's dick there before now?"

 

Sam's eyes were filling with tears. Tears of happiness for the first time in weeks. "But what if you decide you want a girl?"

 

Dean kissed him tenderly and then wiped a tear from the corner of Sam's eye. "With the crying and the long hair. You're all the girl I need." He drowned out Sam's squawk of protest with more kisses until they were both panting.

 

"Now, we've got three more hours until Rose is back. Why don't we put this sturdy table to some good use?"

 

Grinning wolfishly, Sam pushed Dean backward toward the wooden surface. "I'll bet you I can make you come at least three times before he's back." He peeled off his blazer and tossed it aside.

 

"Bring it, bitch," Dean challenged, loosening his tie and unbuckling his belt.

 

"Consider it brought, jerk," Sam countered and soon, no more words were spoken, slick skin and moans of pleasure the only communication they needed.

  
~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked the story, please leave comments. Comments = pie. Please feed me delicious pie by commenting.
> 
> Don't forget to go leave [matchboximpala](http://matchboximpala.livejournal.com/) some love for her beautiful art.


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